I was at my friend’s house a few years ago and had to take a shit. I went to his bathroom and pooped and I pooped good. It was a pretty substantial dump. I admired it briefly and then flushed it down. I washed my hands, dried them off, and started to open the door when I noticed a small turd still in the toilet bowl. Normally I would just leave a little nugget like that but I respected my friend too much to do that to him. I flushed the toilet again. It somehow managed to survive another rough ride around the bowl. It didn’t want to go. I had to flush the toilet a third time. No dice. The fourth flush didn’t do anything either. On the fifth fucking flush it finally disappeared. I felt a little bad. He was a tough little fucker. I’ve encountered other flush-resistant dookie since, but nothing on that level. I still think about him every now and then, or whenever I see a Tootsie Roll. I hope he’s still out there somewhere. I wish him the best.
Critically Rated at 13/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young